


Quaffle tosses

by ichor (sbzpruiosnejre)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:50:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbzpruiosnejre/pseuds/ichor
Summary: Charlie helps Ron out with some quidditch skills - brotherly bonding at its best.





	Quaffle tosses

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [MysteriousSunshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriousSunshine/pseuds/MysteriousSunshine) in the [GenAndAroPrompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/GenAndAroPrompts) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Siblings aren't the easiest to get along with sometimes, but they're always there when you need them. Write a story of a fluffy little moment between siblings.  
I am good with whatever fandom you want to write this for, but I am most familiar with Harry Potter, How to Train your Dragon, Maximum ride, shadowhunters (books), Greys Anatomy, Divergent, and Hunger Games.

"Ready?"

Ron nods, backing up his broom. He's shaky on it, or maybe the broom's shaky. It's pretty old - Charlie's the only one who can make it do what he wants, he reckons.

The quaffle zooms toward him, starting as small as a snitch and growing bigger as it comes over. He braces himself, gloved hands reaching out. Oof!

"You alright?" Charlie rests a hand on his shoulder, taking the quaffle from his hands. "It's not as big as you think. You need to put your hands closer together. Yeah?"

"It's hard," he mumbles, rubbing his stomach to ease the dull ache.

Charlie grins. "It's pretty hard. It's got to withstand being lobbed about for hours on end."

He manages a smile.

His brother continues, more seriously, "You'll get used to it. We can practice more. But it's better to be on a broom and get used to moving it with only one or no hands on it. Alright? The twins'll try all sorts of tactics. They don't want you to catch anything. So we start off like this first. Ready to go again?"

"Ready." Ron's determined not to let his brothers down. One day they'll play proper quidditch, like Charlie at school. But right now a game of catch is a better pace.

They play it out for what seems like days, but the sun barely moves and mum doesn't even call them in for dinner by the time Charlie stops their practice again. He just can't get to grips with the ball. It falls out of his hands every time! When they've played before he's never been this bad.

"Sorry, Charlie," he sighs.

Under his ginger mop - mum swears he's growing it every time it gets cut - Charlie looks bewildered. "What? What for?"

"Being rubbish."

"You're not rubbish." The firm voice, like mum's, makes him blink. There's a fire in his brother's eyes. "Don't ever think you're rubbish, Ron. It took me ages to be anywhere near good. Bill used to do this with me too, you know. I think it even took me longer. You're going to be great too. I promise."

Ron passes the quaffle back over. "Alright." He can't believe that.

They play more - ball thrown so many times, more times than he's got fingers - and Ron still can't get it. He listens to Charlie's instructions but he can't follow them properly. He just can't.

"You can, Ron!" And still his brother isn't fed up with him. He isn't bored or annoyed. Instead he just keeps trying, telling him how to put his hands, how to lean back on the broom to get into position better without putting his hands down. And when Ron tumbles onto the grass, only a foot below him, Charlie's over in a second to help him up and brush him off. "I know you can."

Eventually, mum comes outside. It's getting cloudy, but she doesn't call them in.

Ron's staring at her when the quaffle hits the plant pot behind him. Jumping, he looks around and picks it up. She doesn't say anything, and he passed the ball back to his brother.

And they keep at it. Until, finally, he's got it.

The quaffle's right in the middle of his hands.

All his fingers touching it.

Charlie whoops louder than a shouting gnome. Off his broom, he runs over and picks Ron up, which he can just about manage, only enough so his feet dangle a bit. There's some kind of weird sound, like a horn, and then Ron realises he's yelling in celebration too.

His brother's happiness and pride is so easy to fall into.

"I told you you'd do it. Didn't I? You saw that, mum, right?"

Molly nods, beaming, face flushed.

"I did it," Ron agrees, holding the quaffle above his head in victory.

"Five years," Charlie tells him. "Then you can try out in your second year. You'd be our best keeper ever. And help train up all our chasers too. I'll talk to whoever's captain, tell them to look out for you. You'll be the best. And I'll ask Dumbledore if I can visit and watch your games."

"I wish you'd be at school when I am." The glumness returns. "It's not fair."

"Sure it's fair. Hogwarts couldn't handle more than three amazing Weasleys on the team at the same time, you know."

"What if I'm not amazing?"

"You can be whatever you want, Ron. And I'm telling you, you're already amazing."


End file.
